————————

[For purists, the Italian text of the poems follows the English translation.]

DANTE ALIGHIERI, 1265-1321

Notes and translation by Lorna de’ Lucchi

351

Biographical Note

DANTE ALIGHIERI, born at Florence of a well-to-do Guelf family; fought for the Guelfs at Campaldino in 1289, and was present at the capture of Caprona from the Pisans in the same year. When nine years old he first saw Beatrice Portinari, and in the Vita Nuova collects the sonnets he had written for her and tells the story of his youthful love. Beatrice married Simone de’ Bardi in 1288, and died in 1290, but, though Dante’s love for her was unreciprocated, it was the inspiration of his whole life and work. Dante married Gemma di Manetto Donati about 1295, by whom he had four children. From 1295 to 1300 he took an active part in the public affairs of Florence, and in 1300 was elected to a Priorship. In 1301 he went on an embassy to Rome, and in 1302, on the rise of the Black Guelfs, with numerous other White Guelfs, was sentenced to a heavy fine and banishment. The White Guelfs joined forces with the exiled Ghibellines, but Dante, nauseated by their perpetual dissensions, spent the rest of his life in wanderings throughout Italy. He never returned to Florence, though in 1316 accorded permission to do so, but, since the terms offered him were dishonourable, he refused them. Dante’s last refuge was at the Court of Guido Novello da Polenta at Ravenna, where he died and his remains lie to this day. His works are: Vita Nuova, Canzoniere, De Vulgari Eloquentia, Convivio, Monarchia, Latin Epistles and Eclogues, minor compositions, and the Divina Commedia, which occupied him at intervals during some 15 years and is the greatest epic of Christendom.

Poems

[43]

DANTE ALIGHIERI, 1265-1321

Canzone I (Vita Nuova)

O LADIES who are learnèd in Love’s lore,
I fain would tell you of Madonna; nay,
I think not to complete her praise to-day,
But reason so my mind unburdened be.
Know this, whene’er I count her virtues o’er,
Love makes his presence felt in tenderest way,
If only more of valour in me lay
I would speak out and no heart go hence free;
But such proud words shall not go forth from me
Lest my sppech fall a prey to coward-fear.
I will but speak of her sweet nature here,
Regarding her in all humility,
With you, dear Dames and Damozels, because
’Tis matter for none other ears save yours.
45
An angel calleth on the Eternal Mind,
Saying: “Upon the earth, O Lord, behold
A living wonder doth itself unfold
Within a soul whose radiance reacheth here.”
The Heavens, towards whom destiny is kind
Save in denying her, pray God withhold
Her not; the saints, beseeching grace, grow bold,
Pity alone in our defence draws near.
Then God is heard, Who knows my Lady: “Dear
Of Mine, go hence and suffer patiently;
Let hope endure so long as pleaseth Me
Where one abideth who her loss must fear
And who will cry in Hell: ‘O sore-distressed,
I have beheld the glory of the blessed!’ ”
My Lady is desired of Heaven above:
Now I would have you know her virtues rare;
“Believe me, who would be a lady fair
Hath but to walk with her, for on the way
Frost-bound are all ungentle hearts by Love
And each hard thought doth freeze and perish there,
Whilst who hath strength the sight of her to bear
Becomes ennobled or doth pine away.
When she hath found one worthy to withstay
Her sight, she unto him her virtue gives,
Thus working his salvation, whence he lives
In humbleness and pardoneth alway:
This blessing lastly God accordeth still,
Who hath conversed with her need fear no ill.”
Love says of her: “How can a moral be
As pure as she is and as wond’rous fair?”
Then, gazing on her, to himself doth swear
That in her God revealed Himself anew.
She hath the colour of a pearl to see,
But only in so moderate a share
47
As it befitteth Lady sweet to wear;
She is the loveliest thing nature can do;
Beauty is proved by her example true.
And from her eyes whenever they do move
Flame-kindled spirits issue forth of love
Who smite the eyes of those beholding through
Unto their hearts. See! in her face Love stays
Smilingly where no soul may fix his gaze.
O Song, when I release thee, well I know
With many ladies will thy converse be:
I do exhort, since I created thee,
For Love’s own tender daughter, simply sweet,
To say beseechingly where thou dost go:
“Show me the way, for I am sent to be
Her own whose praises have apparelled me.”
And if it vexeth thee vainly to greet,
Pause not where thou with boorish folk mayest meet:
So far thou canst, seek the sole company
Of courteous knights and ladies who will be
Thy guides along the roadway which is fleet.
Thou wilt find Love with her: commend thou me
Unto his favour as befitteth thee.

Canzone II (Vita Nuova)

A MAIDEN in the spring-time of her years,
Compassionate and dowered with every grace,
Was with me when I cried on Death for aid,
And seeing these eyes of mine so dim with tears,
And hearing the wild words I cried apace,
Suddenly fell a-weeping, sore afraid;
Then other ladies gathered there and made
Conscious by her who mourned of my presence,
Took her from thence:
And, drawing near so I might understand,
One of the band
49
Murmured: “Sleep not,” one: “Wherefore art dismayed?”
Then, casting from me my strange revery.
I called upon my Lady piteously.
Alas, my voice so dolorously was bound,
So broken with my grief’s tempestuousness,
None heard save I within my heart her name;
Whereon Love bade me turn myself around
Towards those standing by me, none the less
Though in my face was manifest my shame.
So direful was my pallor, in the same
Moment they all began to speak of death
Under their breath,
Saying among themselves: “Ah, comfort we!”
Then constantly:
“What sight hath put thy valour unto shame?”
I answered them when in some wise consoled:
“O Ladies, unto you it shall be told!”
While I was pondering how my life was so frail
And saw how swiftly it did flee away,
Love wept within my heart where he doth lie;
Thereat my ’wildered soul grew faint and pale
And I, in mine own mind, did sigh and say:
“Alas, one day my Lady too must die!”
Then, since drear sights of terror gathered nigh,
I closed my eyes, through fear downcast and spent,
And my wits went
Distraught awand’ring far away from me,
Till presently,
In fancy of both truth and wisdom shy,
I saw despairful women thronging by
Wailing aloud: “Thou too, thou shalt die!”
Darkly I viewed fully many a vision there
In the vain dreaming that encompassed me;
Meseemed to tarry in an unknown place,
51
Women ran past me with unbraided hair,
Some weeping, some most pitiful to see,
Whose griefs like burning arrows flew apace.
Even as I looked the sun concealed his face,
A star up into the high Heavens leapt,
And they both wept;
Then the earth trembled, and the birds, skybound,
Dropped to the ground;
And one appeared to me in grievous case:
“What dost thou here? Hast thou not heard?” he said,
“Thy Lady, she who was so fair, is dead!”
I lifted up my tear-drowned eyes, and lo,
Like rain of manna, I became aware
Of angels floating upwards to God’s throne:
Before them all a little cloud did go
And voices crying “Hosanna” thrilled the air.
Said Love: “The hour is come when shall be shown
To thee our Lady where she lieth again.”
Then by my vain
Bewitchment to her presence I was led,
And saw her dead:
By women’s hands a veil was softly thrown
About her, in humility she lay:
“I am at peace,” methought I heard her say.
Then I, beholding her so meekly dressed,
Grew meek as she, and in my sorrowing
Said: “Death, now I account thee passing sweet;
Since thou wast folded to my Lady’s breast
Henceforth thou needs must be a gentle thing,
And in thee pity and not scorn have seat;
Ah, look and see how eagerly I greet
Thee, Death, thy sign is written in my face,
I plead thy grace!”
53
Soon after I went thence, my anguish done,
And left alone,
Gazing up into Heaven, I did repeat:
“Blessed is he who sees thy loveliness!
Ladies, my thanks, who roused me from distress.”

Canzone III (Vita Nuova)

SAD eyes that weep for pity of the heart,
Too many tears have brought you weariness,
Now and for evermore your light is spent.
Yet, since I seek some healing for the smart
Through which I suffer ever deadlier stress,
I needs must frame my words to a lament;
And, since I mind me how of old I went
Talking with you of my sweet Lady while
She dwelt with us, rejoicing so to do,
With none save you
Will I hold converse, gentle hearts that wile
In women! I will tell, weeping for rue,
How she departed heavenwards suddenly
And left sad Love discomforted with me.
Beatrice is gone from us unto the skies,
Unto the realms where angels take their rest;
Ladies, she bides with them, afar from you.
Frost did not blight her, nor before our eyes
Did fever-heat consume her; she was dressed
In her own perfect gentleness; the true
Light of her virtue shone so clearly through
The halls of Heaven that the Eternal King,
Beholding it and filled with glad amaze,
To please His gaze
Was fain to gather such a lovely thing
Unto Himself, well knowing the ways
Of earth in pain and bitterness are spread,
Unworthy for her tenderness to tread.
55
Her gentle soul hath doffed the lovely veil
Of flesh which it so wondrously did wear,
And dwells all-glorious in appointed place;
Whoso in speaking of her doth not wail
For pity hath a stony heart and bare
Wherein no spirit entereth of grace;
In a vile heart no thought of her hath place,
However, deeply versed in cunning lore,
Hence from the like no tears could ever flow:
But they who know
How she went hence and how she looked before,
Searching ’mid memories of long ago,
Are heavily bowed with sorrow, sob and sigh,
Bereft of comfort, and are fain to die.
My mournful soul is shaken with long sighs
Whene’er it happeneth that my thoughts incline
Towards the Lady who hath broken my heart;
And many and many a time in me arise
Such passionate longings that this blood of mine
Is changèd in my face. If thought depart
Not suddenly from me, in every part
Sorely am I afflicted with distress,
And in my anguish do cry out aloud
And am so bowed,
For very shame I covet loneliness.
Then, tearfully divided from the crowd,
I call on Beatrice, saying: “Liest low in death?”
And even as I call, she comforteth.
Through mournful sighing and despairful tears
My lonely heart doth sicken unto death
Till those who hear me wax compassionate;
And what hath been the story of my years,
Since my sweet Lady in new life drew breath,
No mortal tongue could fittingly relate.
57
This bitter life so troubleth me of late
That even if I wished I could not tell
You, Ladies mine, how it doth fare with me;
So shamefully
Is life abased men murmur: “Fare thee well”
Whenever they my pallid features see;
Only my Lady can divine my soul,
And at the last her grace will make me whole
O pitiful Song, go sadly on thy way
And find the matron and the maiden-throng
To which each sister-song
Of old was wont to carry happiness;
And thou who art the daughter of distress
Go mournfully and unto them belong!

Sonetto I (Rime)

I WISH, friend Guido, that I might with thee
And Lapo by a miracle alight
Upon a vessel sailing out at sea
Obedient to our will, the winds despite;
Then neither storm nor destiny unkind
Would lead us on our journeying astray,
Nay, rather would we crave, being of one mind,
For ever in such company to stay.
I wish the good magician would consent
To bring us monna Lagia there, no less
Than monna Vanna and her who did win
The thirteenth place; our leisure would be spent
Talking of love; they would rejoice therein
And we, I doubt not, share their happiness.

59

Sonetto II (Rime)

UPON this day which hath but lately sped,
Of all the saints, I saw a gracious band
Of maidens pass; one moved a pace ahead
And she was leading Love by her right hand.
Forth from her eyes there issued such bright fire
As seemed to me a spirit wrapped in flame:
Seeking her face, emboldened by desire,
I knew an angel’s features were the same.
And she, with kindness and calm courtesy,
Saluted them whom fortune did so bless,
Thus moving every heart to tenderness.
I trow that up in heaven a star was born
And came to comfort us on earth forlorn;
Who tarrieth near to her, thrice happy be!

Sonetto III (Vita Nuova)

TO passionate soul and gentle heart I bring
A greeting fair in Love, the master’s name,
That peradventure happening on this thing
Each may discover meaning in the same.
It was in course of time the hour of three,
When every star in heaven doth shine most bright,
That Love appeared before me suddenly;
Even now remembering it I quake with fright.
Gleeful Love seemed, within his hand was laid
My heart, within his arms my Lady, she
Was folded in a mantle and was sleeping;
He wakened her and fed her sore afraid
Upon my burning heart most tenderly,
And thence I saw him turn and go hence weeping.

61

Sonetto IV

O LOVERS, weep, for Love is weeping too,
O listen to the reason for his cries,
He hath heard women clamoring for rue,
Their bitter sorrow gushing from their eyes,
For impious death hath worked his cruel will
On a sweet heart, and into nothing made
That which our highest praise doth merit still,
Save only good repute, in tender maid.
O hear how Love hath honoured her, mine eyes
Beheld his very self lamenting sore
Over the lovely face of her who died;
Often he cast his glances to the skies,
Wherein the gentle spirit evermore
Of her who looked so gaily doth abide.

Sonetto V

AS sullenly I rode the other day,
Because the journey did not like me best,
I found Love in the middle of the way,
And he was lightly as a pilgrim dressed.
In beggar-wise methought he seemed to go,
As if despoiled of his high majesty;
All comers he avoided, head bent low,
And ever and anon sighed pensively.
Beholding me, he called upon my name,
Saying: “Lo, I am come out of the dim
Distance where bode thy heart through my decree
Which now I bear to serve another dame.”
Then I became so wholly one with him,
He disappeared, and whence I could not see.

63

Sonetto VI

THEREFORE is Love one with the gentle heart,
Even as the Sage expounded in his lay,
And this cannot without that other stay,
As reasonable heart from reason cannot part.
Nature made both out of her tenderness,
Love for the master and the heart his nest
Where he may, sweetly slumbering, take his rest
Sometimes for a long while, sometimes for less.
Then beauty in pure woman’s form doth move,
So pleasing to the sight that in the heart
Springeth a yearning after all delight
That lingereth there, the spirit which is Love
Awaking out of sleep; with equal art
In lady fashioneth a worthy knight.

Sonetto VII

WITHIN my Lady’s eyes abideth Love,
Hence where she looks all things must needs grow kind,
And when she passeth all men glance behind,
And those she greeteth such fond raptures prove
That from each downcast face the colour fades
And every fault repentance doth inspire:
Before her flee presumptuousness and ire;
Help me to do her honour, gentle maids!
The heart which heareth her when she doth speak
Becometh, through her virtue, pure and meek,
Hence praise to who beholds her first is due;
The vision of her softly smiling face
In neither speech nor memory hath place,
It is a miracle so sweet and new.

65

Sonetto VIII

I FELT in the deep chamber of my heart
A passionate spirit out of slumber move,
And, with a gaiety strange to him, saw Love
Coming towards me from a distant part;
He said: “Now pay due honour to my fame!”
And there was laughter in his every word:
Then, as he tarried, I beside my Lord,
Gazing towards the regions whence he came,
Beheld Madonna Vanna drawing nigh,
With her Madonna Bice she did bring,
One with the other marvellous to see;
And, if so be my memory do not lie,
I heard Love say: “This lady is called Spring,
That other Love, for she resembleth me.”

Sonetto IX

SO gentle and so pure appears to me
My Lady, when she greeting doth bestow,
That ever tongue is hushed in ecstasy
And eyes for awe their heritage forego,
She passeth, hearing how she is admired,
Benignly, all regardless of her worth;
It is as if she were a thing inspired,
A miracle by heaven shown on earth.
She is so beautiful to see that by
A glance the heart is soothed in such sweet way
As only he who knows can truly say:
And from her lips a spirit seems to move,
A spirit filled with tenderness and love,
For every saying to the soul, “Ah, sigh!”

67

Sonetto X

BEYOND the sphere enfolding all the spheres
Passeth the sigh that in my heart doth rise,
And a new wisdom learns form Love in tears,
By which he may attain unto the skies.
When he hath reached the bourn of his desire
Of lady throned in glory he hath sight,
To whom his pilgrim spirit doth aspire,
She shineth with so wonderful a light;
On seeing her thus and telling it to me,
His accents are too subtle to bear sense
Unto the sorrowful heart that yearns to hear;
Yet often of my gentle one doth he
Hold converse, often naming Beatrice, whence
I understand full well, O ladies dear!